THE NATIONAL GEOGRAPHIC MAGAZINE
claims no credit for smooth seas, nor de
clares any weather the worst. He is
true to his trust and, knowing that he
sails a N. A. S. M. ship, he is confident
of a safe voyage.
The descendants of some of the old
time mariners to the icy North or to
India's coral strand may now be poling
a boat along the canal that crosses my
street. Their ships are less ambitious,
their journeys are not so romantic, and
their cargoes may have less of value; but
they are adding, each in his own way, to
Holland's
greatness. This greatness
may be called dwarfed in its proportions,
but Holland is truly great in her indus
try, perseverance, and in the spirit of her
people. It is this spirit that dares to
contest with the sea for supremacy as it
dared the haughty Spaniard. It rests in
the heart that never falters and lightens
burdens that to others would be crush
ing.
THE WONDERFUL CANALS
This canal at my corner, whose busy
traffic is reflected in my friendly mirror,
is one of the many which divide Amster
dam into hundreds of trapezoids and
furnish cheap and commodious avenues
for the transport of every conceivable
article of commerce gathered from all
parts of Holland. It would be extremely
interesting to know the cargoes and
starting places of the vessels which are
pushed along these canals-literally
pushed-for tug service is expensive
and the restricted possibilities for tack
ing renders the sail useless. In pushing,
the boatman walks to the prow of the
boat, thrusts a long pole in the water,
then facing the stern, and with his shoul
der against the free end of the pole, he
literally kicks the boat from under him
self as he apparently walks toward the
stern. When he risks walking over
board he withdraws the pole and repeats
the process, going from side to side for
purposes of steering in case only one is
poling.
It is a slow and tedious method of pro
pulsion. Surely the saying, "It's a good
thing, push it along," must have orig
inated in Holland. Here nearly every-
thing is pushed, and the number of push
carts is far in excess of the number of
vehicles for horses. The delivery carts
are pushed; small peripatetic shops seem
impelled by a magic power, but there is
a man behind or a woman; vegetables
enough to stock a market are bowled
along from street to street; and then the
fish-smoked and pickled, fresh or dried,
all sorts, sizes, and conditions, alive or
dead. The purchaser makes her selec
tion, and the vendor proceeds to prepare
the fish for the pan. To the credit of
Holland it must be said that a man is
not allowed to use dogs to aid in the
work of propulsion through the streets.
It is also astonishing to note the vari
ety of goods which are offered for sale
from these carts: hardware and tin
ware, even including small stoves;
books, day-books, and ledgers; pens, ink,
and paper; glassware, lamp chimneys,
cups and saucers; shoes, hats, clothes,
old and new, and in fact the only things
omitted are medicines and coffins. The
dealers in rags, bones, and old iron pick
up every imaginable bit of rubbish, and
after deciphering its use and burnishing
it up a little, offer it for sale on the mar
ket square or trade with some brother
peddler. I watched from my window
two sons of Israel inspecting each other's
load. It was a painstaking process. I
could not hear what was said, but I
could see that one fondly handled a few
yards of discarded dress trimming. An
offer was evidently made and refused;
then perhaps others-a diminution pos
sibly of a cent on the part of the one and
a corresponding increase by the other.
But to no avail. They separated. How
ever, the longing to buy or the desire to
own finally got the better of one, so he
stopped and raised his offer, which was
accepted and the important deal made.
I could see the amount paid; it was
twelve cents; but then one cannot esti
mate the pleasure which the dealing
gave.
THE LONE FISHERMAN
But to return to the canal, though if a
canal is wanted it is not necessary to
turn; one can go straight ahead. But to
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